


I'll Sit Forever with the Gods

by eternalscout



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BuenaKai, Community: pacificrimkink, Cult, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalscout/pseuds/eternalscout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Newt is the Prophet of the Kaiju-worshiping cult and Dr. Hermann Gottlieb is next in line to be sacrificed to the Kaiju.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Sit Forever with the Gods

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU fic that was written for [ this prompt](http://pacificrimkink.livejournal.com/2747.html?thread=3190715#t3190715) on the Pacific Rim Kink Meme on LiveJournal. 
> 
> The title comes from This is the Moment from Jekyll and Hyde.

The hood that had been wrapped around his head for hours was ripped off and Hermann sucked in his first breath of fresh air. The room around him gradually came into focus, his eyes struggling after so long in the dark. His jaw ached from the partly open position he’d been forced to hold due to the gag shoved what felt like halfway down his throat. 

He didn’t know how long he’d been awake or how long he’d been unconscious. He’d spent his time awake trying unsuccessfully not to panic. The police of Hong Kong had more important things to worry about than muggings and kidnappings. Things like stopping the riots and regulating the city’s Kaiju shelters. What his kidnappers wanted was beyond him, but money talked. Hermann was important enough to feel confident Stacker would pay to have him returned in one piece. Why else would they have taken him alive if not for money?

Words flew over him. He wasn’t proficient enough with the language to know what was being said, but he recognized the dialect. It was enough to convince him he was still within or near Hong Kong.

A hand gripped his shoulder, rolling him onto his back. In the dim light of the red lanterns lining the walls, he could make out a woman’s face. She looked to be in her late twenties or perhaps her early thirties. Her black hair was cut short and framed her thin face. She frowned down at him and turned back to her companion, perhaps one of the biggest men Hermann had ever seen. He, too, looked local. His hair was long but drawn back into a tight queue against his head. The two shared a silent look.

“I will untie you, but if you run, Gege will hurt you. Do you understand?” the woman asked in English, accent thick but the words clear enough.

Hermann nodded, pushing aside his pride in favor of being unbound. If he was smart about this, maybe he would be home all the sooner.

She removed the gag first and he opened his mouth to speak only to be silenced by a look from Gege. The woman helped him sit up so she could free his arms, which had already begun to grow numb under his own weight. Hermann rubbed at his wrists, trying to restore circulation as she untied his legs. He remained seated beside her on the floor, convinced any sudden movements were ill-advised until he knew he had enough control of his limbs to walk again.

He flinched as she reached out, brushing his bangs back from his forehead. She tsked, fingers ghosting over a gash he wasn’t aware he’d had until she touched the tender skin surrounding it.

“Do not worry. I will take care of it,” she said, for whose benefit Hermann wasn’t certain.

“If money is what you’re after, you shall have it. I only need to contact my superior and he will pay whatever price you demand.” He doubted his own funds would be enough to cover it. If that were the case, they would have robbed him point blank rather than wasting the time and energy to bring him here. Wherever here was.

She laughed. The sound might have been reassuring if he hadn’t been at her mercy.

“We do not want your money, Dr. Gottlieb.”

“What else could you possibly want from me?” he demanded, trying to ignore the small thrill of fear he felt at the use of his name. Either they had gone through his things or this hadn’t been a random act. Unfortunately, he didn’t think the odds were in his favor.

She offered a cryptic smile and rose from where she sat beside him. “Gege.”

A hand the size of a Kaiju Skinmite tightened in the back of his sweater, hauling Hermann to his feet with seemingly no effort. His legs threatened to buckle but Gege kept him upright.

“We will clean you up before we introduce you to the Prophet,” the woman offered over her shoulder, leading the way out of what Hermann could now see was a small, modestly furnished bedroom. The walls were bare aside from depictions of the Kaiju, reverence in every stroke of the brush that rendered them.

Gege’s grip shifted to his arm, fingers wrapped tightly around his bicep. Still, Hermann stumbled without his cane. While he could do without it for some time, he wouldn’t get far if he tried to run. He didn’t have speed or strength on his side, which meant his mind was his only advantage.

As they walked down a vast hallway, perhaps as wide as the room they had been in before, he tried to find defining markers while simultaneously mapping what he could in his head. The Kaiju decorations flowed from the room out into the hall, depicted in art forms ranging from paintings to sculptures and even, from what he could determine, preserved remains. They came across no one else and he forced back the immediate, panicked desire to shout and hope someone heard. Gege and the woman weren’t concerned with stealth. There was no point in wasting his breath and earning who knew what in way of retribution.

They stopped in front of a wide door near the opposite end of the hallway. The woman opened it, leading the way inside. Hermann followed behind into perhaps one of the largest bathrooms he had ever seen. The tiles of the walls and floor were set with mathematical precision. The bottom of the tub taking up most of the space depicted yet another Kaiju, the first that had passed through the Breach. He and Gege stayed to one side as the woman turned the faucets, filling the tub with water so hot that steam lingered on its surface.

Gege shifted beside him and Herman felt him ruck up the back of his shirt, which had still somehow managed to remain tucked despite all of the manhandling. He jerked back, eyes widening as he tried to put some space between himself and the enormous man.

It had been a stupid move. Gege released the back of his shirt and dealt a blow to his head hard enough that Hermann swore he saw stars, vision swimming in the aftermath. Gege let go of his arm and Hermann dropped to the floor, belatedly throwing his arms out to try and catch himself. Gege caught him again before he made impact and his sweater and the button up underneath were yanked viciously over his head, buttons popping off and bouncing across the tiles.

“If you fight, Gege will hurt you again,” the woman warned, returning to them. She tsked again, cupping Hermann’s jaw in her warm palm. “You are bleeding again, Dr. Gottlieb. We will have to take care of that before you see the Prophet. Gege, do not hurt him where it will show.”

The man grunted something that may have been an apology as Hermann’s thoughts sluggishly whirred back to life. Despite the warm water of the bath, his skin prickled with cold. He tried to meet the woman’s eyes, irritation worming its way back to the forefront as the world threatened to spin around him.

“Give me back my shirt.”

“You will wash,” she answered, looking pointedly to his pants.

Hermann gripped his waistband tightly, cold fingers pressing against the warmer skin of his middle. Though he’d only lost his top layers, he felt entirely exposed, face burning as she smiled back at him.

“You may remove them yourself or Gege will remove them.”

Hermann’s heart tripped in his chest. Gege’s fingers knotted in his hair, starting to haul him up by it. Pain radiated from his scalp and Hermann fumbled with the button and zipper of his slacks, fingers trembling as he pulled them down over his hips. Gege’s fingers vanished, though the ache of Hermann’s pulled hair lingered.

The woman’s expression grew grave as she caught sight of the heavy scarring of Hermann’s leg. The difference in muscle between it and the other was just as easily noted. Hermann felt it looked emaciated in comparison, though he’d been reassured by his physician that it wasn’t.

“Mei?” Gege murmured.

“It will be covered,” she answered, offering him a reassuring smile. “The Prophet will never lay eyes upon it.”

Hermann clenched his jaw, yanking his slacks over his shoes and socks rather than removing them.

“The rest,” Mei said, waving her hand imperiously.

Hermann took a deep breath, folding his slacks once he was a little calmer. He took his time with his shoes, untying them and sliding them off before tucking the laces into them. He removed his socks and rolled them, setting them inside his shoes. His shirt and sweater laid in a crumpled heap beside him. The shirt was a lost cause, but he folded the sweater and set it on top of his slacks.

“The underwear,” Mei insisted, well aware he was stalling.

Gege lifted his hand, but Hermann beat him to it, lifting his hips to slide out of his black boxers and folding them along with the rest. Fully naked, he reflexively hunched in on himself, perfect posture sacrificed in favor of what privacy he could manage.

“Was that so hard?” Mei asked, earning a glare. “It will not be easy, but we will make you worthy,” she continued.

Gege moved behind him and Hermann climbed to his feet, realizing what his intention was. He crossed his hands over his crotch and followed Mei to the far wall. A shower head was attached to it and he stood over a drain. There was no shower curtain, but there was a small stool.

“Sit,” Mei instructed.

Hermann sat and she turned on the water and let it soak him through. It was warm at least, chasing away the chill threatening to seep into his bones. Mei left him there, moving to the large cabinet nearby and taking out a basket of toiletries. Gege watched them both from his position by the tub, eyes narrowed suspiciously in Hermann’s direction. What the man thought he was stupid enough to do at this point was beyond Hermann.

Mei set the basket out of reach of the spray and turned off the shower. Hermann sat there, knees pressed firmly together as water dripped from him to the floor. Mei considered him, gaze appraising. Rather than reaching for one of the bottles, she took out a pair of scissors. She didn’t speak as she knelt behind him, running the fingers of her free hand through his wet hair. She moved in front of him, studying the way his bangs clung to his forehead before starting to cut.

Hermann lost track of how long she spent on his hair. Innumerable strands littered the ground and his body, itching where they clung to his damp skin. She finished just as he began to grow cold again, turning the faucet and rinsing the hair off of him and down the drain. She turned it off and stood in front of him, fingers cupping his chin. Mei brushed her thumb against his cheek and nodded to herself, making Hermann grateful he shaved on a daily basis.

He didn’t fight her as she took one of the many bottles from the bag and poured its floral scented contents into her hand. Her fingers returned to his hair, massaging the shampoo into his scalp. Hermann’s shoulders stiffened until they ached. She rinsed him and worked something else into his hair, leaving it there as she picked up a washcloth. The bottle she chose next smelled of lavender and she scrubbed his skin until it felt raw to the touch. When Hermann threatened to recover his private bits, Gege shifted where he stood and Hermann’s hands dropped again so Mei could scrub there too, jaw clenching.

He was certain they would be finished after the next rinse, but Mei was far from through. She rubbed the coarse skin of his feet with a small stone and even went so far as to trim his nose hairs before she finally led him to the tub she had filled earlier. Hermann expected the water to be cold after so much time sitting there, but it was still warm and he sank into it, instructed to soak until Mei said otherwise. He seated himself on the steps that led down into it, trying to relax enough to let the water ease his aches and pains.

When Mei allowed him out, she blotted him dry with a towel and a new round of grooming began. She worked creams and lotions into every inch of his skin, all unscented, before she put some form of gel in his hair that made it feel as if it were standing on end. Hermann realized with a start that his clothes had vanished at some point. He was provided with only a bathrobe and slippers when it came time to redress. The bathrobe cinched tightly around his waist, somehow accenting the slight curve of it. Meanwhile, the neckline cut low, showing just a hint of his chest. Both Mei and Gege studied him, eyes intense. Mei nodded her approval.

Hermann caught only a glimpse of himself in the mirror as they headed out of the room. Were it not for the dour set of his mouth and the worry lines between his brows, he might not have recognized himself. He was brought to a different room, though it was nearly the same size as the first. Mei led him to the bed inside, motioning for him to take a seat.

“Are you hungry, Dr. Gottlieb?”

Hermann wanted to say no, but he needed to keep up his strength. He only hoped whatevers he provided wasn’t drugged. He gave a curt nod.

“Gege will be standing guard outside your door,” she said as she backed out of it, closing it behind her. 

The lock clicked as it slid home.

There were no clocks or windows to tell him how much time had passed. Hermann didn’t even know if it was still the same day he’d been abducted. This room had even less within it than the one he’d woken in. The bed was the only furniture. There were no pictures of Kaiju here, but a scroll hung on one wall, Chinese characters decorating it.

Fatigue weighed heavily on him and he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes. He had nearly decided to when Mei returned, bearing a tray that’s aroma made Hermann’s stomach growl. She lifted the cover from the dish resting on it. The food beneath was simple. Fish and rice with water to drink. Hermann had never excelled with chopsticks, but he could maneuver them well enough to eat. There wasn’t nearly as much food as he wanted, but it was probably for the best. His stomach had yet to settle. Mei took the tray when he was done and stepped back out into the hall without so much as a word.

When she didn’t immediately return, exhaustion won out and Hermann drifted into an uneasy sleep, desperate to maintain what energy he could in the hopes it might help him escape.

\---

 

With the next Kaiju attack drawing closer, Newt was thrumming with more energy than usual. The PPDC warnings were well-publicized. The attacks were coming closer together just as the BuenaKai had prayed. Their sacrifices had been well-received by the Masters, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep up with the demand. Luckily Mei handled that, leaving Newt free to indulge in his far less gruesome pursuits.

Mei had a knack for selecting the right people, people that favored the Kaiju that would appear days after their abductions. A strong brow in a sacrifice meant a strong brow in a Kaiju. Long fingers meant long claws. The BuenaKai felt it was the Gods’ way of showing their favor. Newt felt it was more of a coincidence, but he couldn’t deny the power of the Kaiju and their Masters. Not that their Prophet would ever openly question the divinity of the gods.

When Mei came to him that evening, Newt abandoned his study of a Kaiju spleen in favor of letting her introduce him to their latest sacrifice. A Hermann Gottlieb. The name was familiar somehow, though Newt was convinced it was solely due to his German roots. His ethnicity had been a problem when he’d first been selected to ascend to his position, but his Brothers and Sisters had come to accept him quickly enough when a Kaiju had appeared and very nearly destroyed a Jaeger that same day. Knifehead had been the first of his tattoos and many more had come to follow, leaving his otherwise pale skin awash with color.

Gottlieb was sleeping when they reached his room, helped along by the sedatives that had been included in his meal. It made it easier for Newt to determine whether or not the sacrifices would satisfy the Masters when he had a moment to study them.

Gottlieb didn’t stir as they opened the door and stepped inside. Newt approached the bed, taking in his sleep mussed hair and lithe limbs. It was difficult to tell with Gottlieb lying down, but Newt was convinced he was taller than himself. His skin was pale and Newt studied the blank expanse of it, fingertips brushing against Gottlieb’s bare wrist though his eyes lingered on the man’s chest. His skin was cool to the touch, not that it surprised Newt with how skinny the man was.

“A foreigner,” Newt murmured. “It’s been a while since we had one of those.” Anyone who could afford to had long since fled inland.

Newt’s thumb idly brushed back and forth across the pulse point on Gottlieb’s wrist.

“What made you choose him, Mei?”

“The Gods have favored us by sending more powerful harbingers. I thought a sacrifice of equal value would be appropriate.”

“Equal value?”

She smiled. “He is a scientist. He worked on the programming for the Jaegers.”

Suddenly, Newt knew why Hermann Gottlieb’s name sounded so familiar. “He’s the one who predicts when the next Kaiju will arrive.”

“The same,” she agreed. “He is the Prophet of our enemy.”

Fingers tightened around Newt’s and he gasped, trying to jerk back only to be held in place as Gottlieb’s grip tightened. The man’s eyes opened, though they were hazy and unfocused due to the drugs.

“I thought he was supposed to be sedated!” Newt squeaked.

Mei tightened her fingers around Hermann’s wrist, digging them into the pressure points there until Hermann grimaced in pain, releasing Newt’s hand. Mei didn’t let go of Hermann’s wrist, though he tried to pull his arm free. The bathrobe he wore shifted with the movement and Newt’s breath caught when he saw the scars on Hermann’s leg.

“Mei, stop!”

Her head snapped up and she released Hermann’s wrist, staring intently at Newt. Hermann tried to sit up, but Newt pushed him down easily, the flat of his palm against Hermann’s chest. Mei’s hand joined his, adding enough pressure to keep Hermann in place as Newt gingerly lifted the hem of the bathroom up to the middle of Hermann’s thigh, stopping where the scarring ceased.

“What is this?” Newt demanded.

“There was an accident, my Prophet. Many years ago. He shattered the bone of his leg.”

“How? What happened?”

“He was struck by a car while walking.”

Newt frowned, tracing the scar tissue with a fingertip. He’d never seen anything like it before. Carnage, yes. The aftermath? No. 

“Are you displeased, my Prophet?”

Newt’s frown deepened. “I don’t know how the gods will react,” he admitted. “They prefer young, unblemished, and healthy.”

“You think they will not appreciate the scientist?”

“I’ll have to talk to them. To make sure this is all right. You did the right thing, Mei. I’m sure they would be pleased to have him if he was whole. I’ll have to see what they think about him being damaged.”

Mei gave a small bow. “I understand, my Prophet. I will leave his selection to the Gods’ discretion.”

“Thank you,” Newt murmured, eyes meeting Hermann’s half-lidded ones. “I should know soon. We still have a few days until the next Kaiju appears.”

Newt let Mei lead him from the room, though he lingered in the doorway until Hermann’s eyes slid closed again. “I thought the sedatives were stronger than that.”

“I believe they are similar to the medication we found on his person. He may have developed a tolerance.”

“Medication?”

“For chronic pain,” Mei supplied. “I will try something different next time.”

Newt nodded, but couldn’t help but feel unsettled. The sacrifices had always been immobile before. Unaware. And yet even through the haze of the drugs, he knew Gottlieb had seen him. The dose he’d been given was minimal compared to what would be administered when the Kaiju arrived. They couldn’t have the sacrifices running away after all. It was disconcerting to realize he’d never seen a sacrifice move before. Never seen one’s eyes. Never seen one in pain.

Newt pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind, leaving Mei and Gege to tend to Gottlieb. He had more important matters to tackle. Like communicating with the Masters. The last thing he wanted was to piss them off and have the temple wind up leveled while he was still inside.

\---

 

It was harder to wake up the next morning than Hermann expected. His leg and head ached, and his eyelids felt as if they’d been glued shut. He didn’t have the luxury of thinking for a moment that he was somewhere else. His mind didn’t work that way. He had dreamed though, briefly, of a man with multicolored skin and wild hair.

He felt the bed shift beside him and forced his eyes open, fully expecting to see Mei or Gege. His heart leapt in his chest when he found the man from his dream leaning over him, studying him intently through a pair of thick glasses. Not a dream then.

The man white, though most of the skin Hermann could see was covered in tattoos depicting the Kaiju. They painted the man’s arms and even parts of his throat. He was small, though Hermann couldn’t make out much of his body due to the billowing red robes that covered his torso and legs.

Was that what was going to become of him? Would every inch of his skin be tattooed like this man’s? The thought made Hermann’s skin crawl.

“You’re awake!” the man offered in perfect, American English.

Hermann eased himself upright, taking his time when the movement only made his head pound all the harder.

“Are you a prisoner as well?” Hermann managed, once he’d gotten his tongue unstuck from the roof of his mouth.

The man’s open expression closed off at the words, but after a moment he nodded. “Yeah. What’s your name?”

“Hermann Gottlieb. How long have you been here?”

“I’m Newton Geiszler. Call me Newt! And a few years now.”

The name sounded familiar, but Hermann was in no mood to try and determine why. He was more concerned by the word “years.” “What is their end game?”

“End game?”

“What do they intend to do with us?” Hermann’s eyes wandered across the tattoos a second time and he audibly swallowed.

“Uh…”

Hermann felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. “They worship the Kaiju, don’t they? That’s why they’ve tattooed you. They’re the Kaiju Cult.” A cult he hadn’t paid attention to, one he’d believed would find itself extinguished by a well-placed Kaiju foot. The fact that they remained in their temples during the attacks rather than taking shelter made them even bigger fools. 

“The BuenaKai,” Newt corrected. “They don’t worship the Kaiju, really. They just believe the end of the world is coming. That the Kaiju were sent by the gods to purify us and deliver us.”

“You’re one of them,” Hermann breathed, eyes widening. “You’ve become one of them.”

Newt pushed his glasses back up his nose, frowning faintly. “Look, man, they’re not crazy. This world is dying because of what we did to it. We couldn’t take care of it and now we’re being punished.” 

Hermann pulled himself back toward the headboard, trying to put space between the two of them. “That’s preposterous!” he retorted. “The Kaiju are monsters that should be destroyed. They attack and we fight back! I won’t pretend to know what motivates them, though it’s likely a desire for wanton destruction. Only a suicidal fool would believe this is what humanity deserves!”

Newt sat straighter, eyes narrowing. “Don’t talk about them like that,” he snapped, a dangerous quality settling in his steely gaze.

Hermann regretted the words only in that he wasn’t certain what the other man was capable of when provoked. Newt advanced across the bed and Hermann retreated. He tried to get out of it, but the blankets caught around him, bringing him abruptly and painfully to the floor. It would not have been so bad if it hadn’t wrenched his leg in the process. For a moment, Hermann felt nothing but the white hot agony that blurred his vision.

Distantly, he felt arms around him, pulling him back into the bed. He shut everything else out, taking deep breaths as he tried to work through the pain. It gradually faded once his leg was stretched out in front of him. Newt was speaking, Hermann realized. A litany of words too low and too fast for him to understand. Opening his eyes again, he realized he was seated in front of Newt, his back to the other man’s chest and Newt’s knees propped up on either side of him. The tattoos covered his legs as well, judging from what Hermann could see where the robes had hiked up due to his position.

Hermann tensed in his hold, the muscles of his leg protesting.

“Geeze, dude, relax,” Newt insisted, reaching around him to gently knead Hermann’s leg. 

It helped, much as the warm water had the night before. Hermann didn’t know what had flipped the switch in the man from anger to concern, but he stayed still in an effort not to provoke him again. He had clearly been brainwashed. That made him as dangerous as any of the others, whether or not he was a prisoner here.

“How’s that? Any better?”

“A little,” he hazarded. As better as it would get until it stopped completely. Or they provided him with his medication. Not that he was entirely certain he wanted to take the pills, knowing they would hamper his judgment and dull his mind. They were powerful. They had to be to get him through the worst of it.

Newt seemed to be following the same train of thought. “Mei said there were pills on you when they found you. Do you need those?”

“What do they plan to do with me?” Hermann countered. He wasn’t going to so much as even consider taking them if it meant he would be tattooed while his judgment was impaired.

“I don’t know,” Newt answered. “But I wouldn’t worry about it for a little while. They uh…left me alone for the most part my first few days here.”

Probably to ensure he was desperate for human contact by the end of it. Hermann’s lip curled back. He would not succumb to Stockholm syndrome. He would not become like this man.

“I’ll go get them,” Newt offered. “Gege will let me have them. Then you can take them and get some rest.”

Hermann turned his head, trying to catch his expression out of the corner of his eye despite the awkward angle. From what he could determine, Newt looked earnest. Desperate to help him in some way or another. If he was given free reign of the building, perhaps Hermann could use him to his advantage.

Newt slithered out from behind him before Hermann could answer, easing him back against the pillows unnecessarily. Hermann may have been in pain, but he wasn’t an invalid. Newt opened the door and spoke briefly with Gege in Cantonese before he closed the door and hurried off.

He returned more quickly than Hermann expected, with the proper dosage and a glass of water. Hermann threw back the pills and against the headboard, eyes sliding closed as he waited for them to take effect. Newt apparently planned on sticking around, seating himself beside him on the bed.

“What happened to your leg?” Newt blurted before the silence could grow too strained.

Hermann considered ignoring him, but he needed some kind of ally here. Newt seemed like the best bet.

“Drunk driver.”

“I thought Mei said something like that,” Newt said, shifting restlessly beside him. “How old were you?”

“Twenty three.”

“How old are you now?”

“Thirty-six.”

“Dude! We’re almost the same age.”

Wonderful. “How long have you been here, Newt? Do you know the exact number of years?”

“Uh…”

Hermann opened his eyes, watching as Newt ticked the years off on his fingers. “Uh, probably about six years now, actually. It was almost four years after I got my last doctorate. I’ve got six of ‘em.”

The name suddenly clicked in his mind and Hermann sat up a little straighter. “Geiszler. You’re the Geiszler who was studying Kaiju biology. The one who went missing.”

“Yeah! That was me! I left MIT to move closer to the action and the rest is history.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Hermann insisted. “You’re a man of science, are you not? Then you must understand that this is not the way to deal with the Kaiju attacks. You could fight for humanity instead. We could use someone with your knowledge of the Kaiju on our side.”

Newt frowned back at him. He opened his mouth to answer only for blood to trickle from his nose and dribble down his chin. Hermann’s eyes widened.

“You’re bleeding!”

Newt dabbed at his nostril, frowning down at the blood painting his fingers. “Shit. Shit, hang on a sec.” He dug a stained handkerchief from the pocket of his robes and pressed it to his nose. “Everything’s fine. Got it under control!”

“You hardly look as if you have it under control,” Hermann retorted.

“No, it’s totally under control! It’ll stop in a sec.”

“Does this happen often?”

“It’s just because…” Newt cut himself off, frowning faintly. “No, not often.”

“Just because what?”

Newt wiped at his nose, which had stopped bleeding faster than Hermann would have anticipated. “See? Everything’s under control, Hermann. Stop worrying so much.”

Hermann frowned back at him, but he held his tongue, letting his head rest against the headboard.

“Loosen up, man. Live a little,” Newt insisted.

“This is hardly the situation for any of that.”

Newt shook his head as he moved closer, their shoulders pressing together. “I’m serious. Loosen up. It’ll make you feel better.”

“I will feel better when I am out of here, Newt.”

Newt chewed his bottom lip, fidgeting beside him and bumping their hips and shoulders together in the process.

“Must you do that?” Hermann protested.

“I’m just trying to get comfortable! You need to take a serious chill pill.”

“I just took two.”

Newt blinked. “Was that an attempt at humor, Herm?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“See? I knew you could lighten up! I can help you relax even more, too.”

“I doubt that,” Hermann answered, eyes sliding closed.

Newt pursed his lips, determination replacing the steel that had been in his eyes moments before. The man changed moods faster than anyone Hermann had ever come across.

“Let me pay you back for hurting your leg earlier.”

“Pay me back in what way?”

“By helping you relax.”

Hermann eyes snapped open and he shot him a wary look. “How?” The word was heavy on his tongue now that the medication began to take effect.

Newt studied him a long moment, looking as though he was working up his courage. Hermann immediately put what energy he had toward watching him warily in return. Suddenly Newt’s hand was up his bathrobe, fingers wrapped around Hermann’s cock. A startled gasp Hermann as his hips jerked reflexively closer to Newt’s touch.

“N-Newt!” he protested.

“Shh, shh,” Newt insisted behind him. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

“This, this isn’t—“

Newt squeezed and the rest of what Hermann was trying to say escaped him in a low groan.

“You just need to unwind, dude,” Newt insisted, babbling again. “Endorphins are good for you. You’ll be able to relax and get some more sleep. And on top of that, I won’t have to feel guilty anymore.”

Hermann tried to argue with him, struggled to bring the words from his mind to his tongue. Instead, he wound up pressing his face to the side of Newt’s throat, trying to smother the higher pitched sound that threatened to escape him when Newton’s thumb brushed over the head of his cock.

“When was the last time you did this, anyway?” Newt prompted, but he didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s been a while for me. A long while. I’m not supposed to do that kind of thing here. I’m not supposed to let things interfere with my work. Don’t get me wrong, what I do is important, but it’s been pretty damn hard with just my hand for company.”

Hermann could already feel himself start to tense under his ministrations. He tried to warn him, but his tongue was glued to the bottom of his mouth. He gave a muffled cry as he came over Newt’s hand seconds later.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, now was it? You’ll feel better in no time,” Newt said, digging in his robe for a second handkerchief. “No stains,” he said, waving it in front of Hermann’s uncomprehending eyes. 

Newt pulled the bathrobe open, but Hermann wasn’t capable of feeling mortification at the moment. Or much else. He watched distantly as Newt mopped him up and did what he could for the parts of the bathrobe that had gotten cum on them.

“I’ll make sure Mei gets you another bath tonight,” Newt insisted. “When you’re feeling a little more awake. And we’ll get you another robe. Or…well, maybe some actual clothes. You seem like the type that would want actual clothes.” Newt wadded up the handkerchief along with the bloodstained one and patted Hermann awkwardly on the head with his clean hand. “You get some rest, Herm.”

Hermann’s eyes slid closed and he didn’t answer, not that it seemed to matter to Newt. Newt slid off the bed and Hermann heard his footsteps fade in the direction of the door before sleep overtook him.

\---

 

The first pace Newt went after Hermann’s was to his own room. Well, rooms really. Being the Chosen One of the Kaiju had some serious perks. And some serious downsides.

Newt deposited both ruined handkerchiefs in the trash, making a mental note to stuff his pockets with more. It had become a habit ever since his nose had decided to start randomly bleeding at the worst of times. He knew why. He knew it was due to the Drift.

He hadn’t come to Hong Kong six years ago with the intention of staying or becoming involved in the BuenaKai. Sure he’d been curious about them, but more due to the rumors circulating that this particular sect was attempting to Drift with the Kaiju. Newt’s scientific curiosity had been piqued.

The equipment they’d been trying to use was old, pillaged from a fallen Jaeger. Like the Jaeger, it had been badly damaged and they’d done what they could to repair it. They hadn’t done a bad job, but what progress they had made hardly mattered when the thing wouldn’t work. The thought of Drifting with the Kaiju, sharing his mind and vice versa with the creatures he studied, had spurred Newt on. He’d worked tirelessly on the equipment until he was confident it would work.

Finding a Kaiju brain had been simpler in comparison. The BuenaKai had financial resources to rival the military budgets Newt had been wooed with before. The transaction with Hannibal Chau had been harrowing, but he’d gotten what he needed and had initiated his first Drift.

The BuenaKai were right about one thing. The fault of the Kaijus’ appearance rested on the shoulders of humanity. Newt didn’t deny that for a second. If humans had done more to prevent the damage to the planet, they might have never returned to attempt to colonize it. There would be no BuenaKai or Jaegers. Hermann was right though. That didn’t mean humans deserved to die for it, but Newt didn’t see the Kaiju stopping any time soon.

Newt was the only one who had successfully Drifted with the Kaiju and he had been made the Prophet of the BuenaKai as a result. It was probably for the best that Kaiju brains were relatively difficult to come by. It limited the damage he did to himself and spaced it out over time. Newt had grown addicted to the Drift, and maybe even a little to the power his status amongst the BuenaKai afforded him. 

He’d told the BuenaKai about the Kaijus’ Masters and they finally had beings to fit the title of Gods to. The Masters were the ones who had demanded the first sacrifice. Newt wasn’t stupid. They didn’t care about humanity, but they craved the obedience of the BuenaKai. Newt didn’t doubt for an instant that they would kill them just like any other humans they came across when their worlds were finally fully joined, but for now the novelty of being worshipped appealed to them.

Newt filled his hands with water from the sink, splashing his face to get most of the blood and scrubbing it to get the rest. Each time he Drifted, he wondered if it would be his last. The nosebleeds had grown more frequent over time, and he felt increasingly connected to the Kaiju and their hive mentality. Sometimes, if he focused, he could sense them even when they weren’t connected.

He wasn’t stupid. If the Masters learned that he had one of their enemy ready to be handed up to the Kaiju, they’d demand Newt see it through. They would know about Hermann the next time Newt Drifted and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Not that it should have mattered. Not that it had ever mattered in the past. Yet ever since Newt had met Hermann’s eyes the night before, he hadn’t been able to get the other man out of his head.

“You won’t have to worry about it in two more days, Newt,” he told his reflection. “Because then he’ll be gone and maybe you can get your head back in the game.”

He’d never felt guilt about the sacrifices before. He wasn’t the one that selected them or prepared them or offered them up. That wasn’t his thing. All he did was give the gods’ seal of approval. Did that make him just as bad? Was that how Hermann would see it?

Newt shook his head in an effort to clear it and dabbed at his face with a towel, fingers sinking into the soft fabric. “Get it together, Newt.”

“Is everything all right?”

He jerked and the towel went flying across the bathroom. “Mei! I told you not to do that!”

“I apologize, my Prophet,” she answered, giving a small bow from where she stood in the doorway. “You seem distressed.”

“Distressed?” he echoed, hoping he’d imagined the way his voice leapt up an octave on the word. “I’m not distressed. Why would you think I was distressed?”

“You are talking to yourself. You wanted to see me?”

Newt nodded. “I did. I wanted to let you know that you didn’t have to drug the Sacrifice’s food tonight. Gege told me his leg was bothering him, so he was given some of that medicine you said he’d been carrying around. Won’t do us any good if he winds up keeling over from an overdose.”

“I suppose not,” she agreed. “Then I will guard him myself tonight.”

“Good plan,” Newt offered, picking up the towel and leaving it in a heap on the counter.

“Have the Gods made their will known?”

He should have said yes, should have reassured her that Hermann was the perfect sacrifice, and yet the words stuck in Newt’s throat. “Uh… No, I’m still waiting for an answer. I think they’re torn between the whole him being damaged thing and the whole enemy thing.”

“I see. We have two more days,” she said. “I am convinced they will find him sufficient, but I will keep an eye out in the event we have to find a new sacrifice.”

“A new sacrifice?” Newt echoed. They could do that?

She nodded. “Someone worthy of the honor. Someone that would please the Gods.”

“And what would happen to the old sacrifice?”

“We would no longer have any need for him.”

“We’d let him go?”

She laughed. “Of course not. He has seen too much. The last thing we need is his employer breathing down our necks.”

“So what would we do?”

“Kill him. Make it look like something else. Perhaps a robbery gone wrong.”

The thought only tightened the knot in his gut, but Newt nodded. “Makes sense. I’ll let you know what they decide.”

As far as the worshippers were concerned, his mental attachment to the Kaiju was stronger than it actually was between Drifts. It made life easier. And safer. Newt found that telling them what they wanted to hear worked well enough in most cases. He resorted to meditation, not that he was all that great at it, when it didn’t. Not that he planned on meditating this time. He didn’t want to know what the Masters would send if they knew about Hermann.

“Do you require anything else of me, my Prophet?”

“No, Mei. That’s all. Thank you.”

She bowed and left, leaving Newt to his own devices as far as trying to get Hermann out of his head was concerned.

\---

Hermann didn’t wake until close to midnight. Mei was waiting for him. They repeated the grooming ritual from the night before, though this time she shaved him as well. He was shown back to his room and fed the same meal as the night before, fish and rice.

He tried to ask her questions, some of which were about Newt. She deflected all of them. Still, Hermann persisted until she gave Gege a pointed look. One crack of his knuckles was enough to get Hermann to shut up.

After he’d eaten, Hermann was left alone in his room. He felt oddly energized despite his situation. He wondered if it was because he’d gotten more sleep in the past forty-eight hours than he had for several days. He’d also ridden out the last of the pain of his leg thanks to his medication. And to Newt.

Hermann had wanted to think his encounter with Newt had been a half-remembered dream, but he’d found stiff spots on the inside of his bathrobe, the remnants of what Newt hadn’t mopped up. If he’d been in his right mind, Hermann never would have allowed things to go that far, but there was nothing he could do about what had happened in the past. He was grateful Newt kept his promise and happily relinquished the bathrobe in favor of full robes similar to the one Newt wore. They provided more coverage at least.

He couldn’t decide whether or not he wanted to see the other man again. Newt may very be his shot at freedom, but he was unpredictable. If Hermann put too much of his trust into him, it could come back to hurt him.

Isolation had to be their game now. Hermann didn’t so much as see Mei or Gege again for the rest of the time he was awake. Whether or not it was day or night was debatable. He’d spent his time alone scouring the room for something, anything he could use to his advantage. The electric lights over his bed were too high for him to reach due to the height of the ceiling. What he would have done with the power they held was beyond him, but he still tried to include them in his very short list of assets. Despite his farfetched hopes there might be a trapdoor or secret passage connected to the room, his thorough exploration yielded nothing other than the clothes on his back, the bed and its sheets, and the light overhead.

At a loss, Hermann retreated to his numbers. It was harder without his blackboards or pencil and paper. Instead he ran the tip of his finger across the wooden surface of the headboard, trying to see the numbers he drew in his mind’s eye. It helped, to a degree. It may not have put him much closer to finalizing his calculations as far as the Breach was concerned, but it steadied his thoughts and gave him a sense of agency he’d lacked since he’d woken up with the hood over his head.

He didn’t sleep well when he finally tried to. By the time he managed to nod off, it felt like he had just closed his eyes when he was woken by a hand on his shoulder. Hermann blinked blearily up at Mei, spotting Gege over her shoulder. The man offered him a smile in that chilled him to the bone.

“Come,” Mei said, releasing his arm.

“Where are we going? “Hermann asked, sitting up and watching the two of them warily.

“This is not the time for questions,” Mei answered. “Come.”

Knowing he’d only be dragged if he didn’t comply, Hermann climbed out of bed and padded out into the hall after them. He ran his fingers restlessly through his hair, knowing the strands were sticking straight up from his tossing and turning. He could at least have some control over his appearance if nothing else. He could look put together instead of as frazzled as he felt.

They took a different route this time, leaving the hallway Hermann had come to know and moving down a narrower one that brought them to a near carbon copy. Only the art looked different. The hallway held the same number of doors and looked to be the same length and width. Mei unlocked one, entering first and leaving Hermann between her and Gege. His heart leapt into his throat when he saw a bolted down chair with attached restraints inside. He jerked back, running into the solid mass of the man behind him.

Gege had his arm wrenched behind his back in an instant, making him cry out. Gege marched him forward, forcing him backward into the seat and twisting harder to distract him so Mei could bind his free wrist and arm to the back of the chair. She did his ankles next, fastening them to the chair’s legs, and Gege helped her with his remaining arm and wrist. Hermann was left hunched over and forcibly hugging the back of the chair due to the way he was bound. His body already ached from being manhandled, though the analytical part of him knew this was probably the least painful of what was yet to come.

He hated having been so easily overpowered, but even if he were in peak physical condition, Gege was still twice his size. Short of having trained as intensely as the Jaeger pilots, Hermann doubted he would have faired much better against him. The man was all muscle. Not only that, but it would have been two to one. Mei carried herself too confidently to be anything but a fighter.

“You intend to torture me now?” Hermann gritted out, stomach churning when he realized Newt hadn’t bothered to mention this. Perhaps he’d done so in an attempt to keep him from worrying, but it felt more like a betrayal.

Mei slid her fingers into his hair, mussing the short strands. Hermann clenched his jaw, glaring up at her from the awkward angle.

“Silly boy, why would we torture you? We need you healthy and in one piece.”

“For what?” he spat, trying to find some solace in his anger.

He hadn’t realized Gege was missing until he heard the distinct rattling of a cart. It stopped behind him and he twisted in his seat. He couldn’t see much of it, only colored bottles.

“What is that?” he demanded.

Mei held out an odd sheet of paper in answer, not that he could take it. 

“Mutavore,” Hermann murmured. Bladehead. It was an artistic rendering of the Kaiju that had broken through the Wall of Life in Sydney. The Kaiju stood proud, its deadliest attributes, the moon-shaped crest on its head and its rows of sharp teeth and claws, taking precedence on the page. It took him a moment to put two and two together and he jerked against his restraints. “No! No, absolutely not!”

“I was not asking,” she informed him. “And if you struggle, I will sedate you.” She stepped behind him, taking the collar of his bathrobe in hand. Hermann felt the cool metal of whatever implement she used to cut through the fabric. She didn’t stop until she reached his waist. That done, she spread the material apart, leaving the entirety of his back exposed.

Hermann trembled, though it was from anger more than anything else. Anger at her, anger at Gege, and anger at himself. Mei watched as Gege lumbered over to a sink Hermann hadn’t noticed before. The man washed his hands thoroughly, returning a moment later. Hermann couldn’t see what he was doing without twisting his head around. Mei tightened her fingers in his hair, pulling his head back around and maintaining her hold.

“You will not ruin this, Xiǎng.”

“What does that mean?”

“You will know soon enough.”

Hermann tensed as Gege applied something to his back. He couldn’t be certain, but it felt like a gel or cream of some kind. It felt like he was covering most of the skin there and Hermann tried not to panic over what he was convinced was the enormous size of the future tattoo. The cream’s use became apparent when Gege brought a razor down on the area, shaving it with more care than Hermann would have thought possible, not that he was appreciative at the moment.

The cream was rinsed off and the area was washed and rinsed twice before it was patted dry. The paper was then pressed against his back and Hermann’s mouth went dry as he considered the size of the image on it. They intended to cover him. They intended to cover him with the Kaiju. He knew nothing about tattooing or the removal thereof, but what little he did know left him fully aware of how difficult something so large would be to remove.

He heard Gege moving behind him, picking up and setting down the contents of the cart. Machinery whirred to life and Hermann went rigid, heart pounding hard in his chest.

“D-Don’t,” he protested. “Please don’t,” he pleaded, desperate.

Mei lightly tapped his cheek. “It will be all right, Xiǎng. It isn’t as if you have anything else to do.”

Hermann jerked when the needle pressed into his skin, breath catching. He was accustomed to pain, that of his leg was chronic. His threshold was high. It didn’t hurt, not the way he had expected it to. His helplessness and his humiliation were another matter entirely. Both threatened to overwhelm him. He clenched and unclenched his fists, and though he held still, Mei didn’t release her grip on his hair.

Hermann lost track of time. The only sound in the room was that of the buzzing of the needle. He closed his eyes when it showed no signs of stopping. He wanted to fight, to break free of his restraints, but then what? They would sedate him and continue on without a hitch. Part of him wondered if that would be easier, but he didn’t want to give up his consciousness. He needed to be awake. He needed to be fighting somehow.

He was convinced hours had passed. His mouth had long since grown dry and he was beginning to feel woozy. Whether it was from hunger alone or from hunger and the strain of the tattooing process, he was uncertain. Whatever the case, Mei disappeared briefly before bringing a cup to his lips, allowing him only a few sips of the water inside. She offered him a granola bar after. He ate it, ignoring the urge to spit it back in her face. The food helped clear his mind, but it barely curbed his hunger.

“There is still much to be done,” Mei offered in answer to his unasked question. “We will not stop until it is finished.”

The machinery powered down, but it was too much to hope for that it was all over. Gege cleaned his back again and resumed the process.

The pain in his back had dulled, too much of the skin involved for him to focus on any one particular sensation. The rest of him, however, ached from being forced to maintain his position for so long. Just as pins and needles began to develop in his hands and feet, the machinery powered down for good and his back was cleaned one final time. Gege gingerly rubbed an ointment on after and covered the sensitive skin with bandages.

Mei patted Hermann’s cheek and began to unfasten his restraints. As soon as his arm was free, all of Hermann’s frustration and anger boiled over and he struck her hard enough to send her to the ground. He tried to twist, to do the same to Gege, but Gege struck first and the world went black.

\---

 

Newt had come to the realization he was a coward. Sure, he’d known he was the type to put his safety and security first. He’d always taken the flight path when it came to fight or flight. He didn’t feel like there was any shame in that.

But this was different.

He hadn’t been able to get Hermann out of his head, no matter what he’d tried. He knew there was a target on Hermann’s back, that he would die today, whether or not it was at the hands of the Kaiju. He’d told himself again and again that he accepted the fact and that it was just the way things were. Hermann had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. It wasn’t Newt’s fault.

And yet…

Newt hadn’t been able to sleep that night. Not unusual in and of itself, but he’d been tired. Exhausted. Yet he’d tossed and turned and every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Hermann. Dead. Dead in an alley somewhere. Ripped to shreds by the Kaiju. Eyes glassy, mouth slack.

The images left him feeling sick.Raw.

Guilty.

It shouldn’t matter. Hermann wasn’t the first sacrifice and he wouldn’t be the last. Newt hoped, whatever the case, that it was quick. Then he could put it all behind him. The thought didn’t settle him. If possible, it made him feel even worse.

He didn’t see Hermann again for nearly two days. They didn’t have the exact hour as to when the Kaiju would arrive, but Newt had a feeling the day of the predicted attack that it wouldn’t be much longer. He could feel the Kaiju growing restless, wondering which of them would be selected. It was only when the Breach was beginning to open that he got so much information from them without trying.

When even his work studying the Kaiju couldn’t distract him, Newt paced. He’d paced the length of his bedroom and then the length of his quarters. The hallway came next, and soon he was headed toward Hermann’s room. Maybe if he did something nice for him again, he wouldn’t feel so guilty. It wasn’t as if Hermann knew what was coming. Mei said it was easier to keep the sacrifices in line when they were kept in the dark. Hermann would be sedated and given to the Kaiju. He would never know what happened.

Gege stood outside of Hermann’s room, which was much better for Newt. Gege wasn’t like Mei. Gege believed what he saw with his own eyes and didn’t go looking for more. It was what Newt liked about him. He always knew where he stood as far as Gege was concerned

Despite the names they went by, Mei and Gege weren’t brother and sister. All women in this particular sect of BuenaKai went by Mei and all men went by Gege. It was supposed to create solidarity amongst them by stripping them of their individuality and making them equals. Newt was known simply as Xiānzhī, Prophet. Hermann was Xiǎng now, Sacrifice.

“Gege,” Newt offered in greeting.

Gege bowed, stepping aside so Newt could peer into the peephole directed into the room’s interior. His eyes widened and he had his hand on the knob in an instant, unlocking the door and opening it.

Hermann didn’t look up at the sound. He was on his knees on the floor, arms bound to the footboard of the bed. Distantly, Newt realized he was naked and now tattooed, but he was far more concerned with the position he’d been forced into.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded of Gege. “Who authorized this?”

Hermann looked up then, recognizing his voice if not the language he spoke.

“Mei,” Gege offered by way of explanation. “He hit her.”

Newt clenched his jaw as he hurried over to Hermann, struggling briefly with the knots before he managed to free Hermann’s arms. The ropes had been tight. He could see their imprint in Hermann’s skin.

“Are you okay?” Newt demanded, switching back to English.

Hermann didn’t meet his eyes as he rubbed at the marks on his arms.

“Hermann? Are you all right?”

“It’s Dr. Gottlieb,” he snapped, voice strained.

“Whatever, dude,” Newt insisted, ignoring the small twinge of disappointment he felt at the correction. Newt slid his hands under Hermann’s arms, trying to carefully lift him to his feet.

“Stop! S-Stop!” Hermann protested, voice catching.

“What? What is it?” Newt asked, staring at him with wide eyes. His stomach clenched when he saw just what the problem was. It was difficult, since Hermann was still seated on his legs, but Newt spotted the discoloration on the scarred one, dark bruises standing out against his pale skin.

“What happened?” Newt demanded, though he already knew the answer. Hermann had hit Mei. Either Mei or Gege or both were responsible. “I-Is it bad?”

Hermann didn’t answer, instead carefully maneuvering himself so he could get his leg stretched out in front of him. It looked like it took a lot of effort and Newt wondered if it was due to the bruising or if he’d been forced to sit like that for a long time. Probably both, he realized, stomach churning.

The bruising looked even worse now that Newton could see the extent of it. Like Hermann had been kicked repeatedly, judging by the size of the marks. Newt swallowed hard.

“This isn’t… This wasn’t… That’s not how…”

“Save your breath,” Hermann snapped, glaring now. “Xiǎng.”

“Xiǎng?” Newt echoed, eyebrows furrowing.

“Don’t play games with me, Newt,” Hermann growled. “Sacrifice. That is what I am, isn’t it? To the next Kaiju that makes it into our world. Or should I say my world, since the rest of you seem to have forsaken it?”

The words hurt even though Newt knew Hermann had every right to say them. Every right to be upset. But he wasn’t supposed to know. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Hermann, I—“

“Do not refer to me as if we were on familiar terms, you…you Kaiju worshipper! You willingly feed these monsters members of your own race! You are no better than they are! Worse, in fact!”

Newt didn’t know what to say to make things better. All of the unsaid words that bubbled up stuck in his throat. Hermann glared back at him, disgust and hate oozing from every pore.

Newt swallowed. An apology wasn’t enough, wasn’t even close to enough, but it was the only thing he could think of. He opened his mouth to force the words out only to go rigid as the Hive Mind of the Kaiju scattered his thoughts, crashing down on him with as much force as it could outside of the Drift.

Pounding footsteps sounded in the hallway, but they were quiet compared to the Voice in his head. Mei appeared beside him, her hand resting on his arm. Her mouth moved, but it took him a moment to catch the words, spoken in hurried Cantonese.

“The rift is open, my Prophet. It is time.”

A glance to the doorway brought Gege inside. He hauled Hermann to his feet despite the man’s gasp of pain. It was enough to fully force Newt’s attention from the Voice.

“Wait! Stop!”

“There is no time,” Mei retorted. “Not if we are to have him ready.”

“You can’t do this!”

Her eyes narrowed. “My Prophet, you speak dangerous words.”

Newt scrambled for some reason, for some explanation that would keep Hermann safe. Mei waited only a moment before she started toward the door, Gege hauling Hermann after her.

“The gods have spoken to me!” Newt thundered. “The gods have spoken to me and have deemed this man worthy to worship them!”

“He will not worship them,” Mei answered, sneering in Hermann’s direction.

“No,” Newt agreed. “They will speak through him as they speak through me!”

She paused, turning slowly to face him. “You cannot mean what you are saying.”

“Hermann Gottlieb is compatible! The gods have decreed that he will speak for them as I do! He will join me as their Prophet!”

“You are the only human who has been compatible,” Mei protested. “You are the only one who has been able to Drift with them.”

“The strain is too much for one man to bear!” Newt insisted. “Hermann will join me and share the neural load, like the Jaeger pilots do!”

“And what of the sacrifice?” Mei demanded. “Are the Kaiju to come through the Rift and not receive one? Are we to insult our Gods with such blatant disregard?”

“We are giving them more than a sacrifice,” Newt protested. “We are giving them a second mouth with which to preach their word!”

Mei looked like she wanted to argue with him, to call him out on what he claimed, but she fell silent. Newt doubted she believed him, but she wasn’t ready to call his bluff, not when she knew she would be outnumbered. While she held a powerful position in the BuenaKai, Newt’s was still higher. The others would take his word over hers.

“Very well then,” she finally said. “Then it seems as though we will need to find a Kaiju brain so that the Gods may speak through Gottlieb. Since this is the first recorded double event, it should not be too difficult.”

Double event? Newt glanced toward Hermann. Wasn’t that what Hermann had predicted? Wasn’t that the warning that had been issued along with the date of the next attack? He forced the thoughts aside and nodded to Mei.

“I’ll contact Hannibal Chau.”

\---

 

Hermann didn’t know what had been said. One moment Gege had been dragging him from his room. The next, he’d been offered clothes and food, as well as medicine for his leg. He’d taken the first two and declined the last. He knew it was highly likely the food was drugged, but his hunger was starting to affect his mind. Iit was, unfortunately, the only solution.

He was still bare above the waist. Gege had cleaned the tattoo again and applied another cream. Hermann had never realized how high maintenance tattoos were, or how tight and sore the skin beneath would feel. Not that his back held a candle to the agony of his leg. He didn’t know what was worse, the pain from having been forced to keep his weight on it for hours or the beating he’d taken beforehand. 

Newt had vanished with Mei without so much as another word. Hermann knew something he’d said had caused a delay in his execution, but he didn’t know what and no one else had bothered to enlighten him.

He managed to sleep, exhaustion catching up with him. He didn’t know he slept through the double event, not with the Kaiju so far from their location. He was shaken from a deep sleep hours later, this time by Gege. Hermann was hardly awake enough to realize what was happening before shoes were being shoved onto his feet and a loose shirt over his torso. Even the light fabric of it irritated the tattoo, but it could have been much worse. He still felt ridiculous dressed in the traditional outfit, whether or not it had pants.

His cane had been unearthed and Gege pressed it into his hand, motioning for him to stand. Hermann watched him warily, knowing his temperament could sway at a moment’s notice. All it had taken earlier was a glance from Mei and he’d wrenched Hermann’s arms behind his back while she had beaten him.

“Come,” Gege offered, uttering one of the handful of Cantonese phrases Hermann had been able to pick up since he’d arrived only a few months before.

He came, movement impeded by the pain radiating through him with each step he took. Gege kept his own pace sedate, though he kept looking ahead of them like he was expecting something. He led Hermann to yet another door and helped him into the jacket he’d been wearing the night he’d been abducted. It pressed painfully against the tattoo, but Hermann supposed warmth was tantamount to the ink at the moment.

He should have been expecting the door to open to the outside world, but he hadn’t been. His eyes widened as wind and rain whipped inside. Gege wrapped an arm around his waist, lifting him far too easily into the back of the van that was parked less than a foot in front of them. Against his better judgment, Hermann tried to lunge back out, but Gege caught the hood of his coat and hauled him back, slamming the van’s rear doors shut with them both inside. He retook the cane as well, ripping it from Hermann’s tight grip.

“Where are we going?” Hermann demanded.

Gege met him with silence and Hermann clenched his fists, resisting the temptation to try to beat the answer out of him. He knew he would be fighting a losing battle.

There were no handles on the inside of the van, at least none that he could see in the dim light of the fixture overhead. They trundled through what Hermann assumed was the city, judging by the muffled noises he caught through the van’s exterior.

They didn’t drive for long before the van came to a halt, the noises outside even louder than before. Hermann could hear men shouting, though it didn’t sound as though they were under attack. The doors reopened and Gege hauled him out, handing him off to the group of men waiting outside.

Hermann’s attention, however, was drawn to the carcass only a few meters away, one that could only belong to an immature Kaiju. In the distance, he saw a hulking form he could only assume had been the mother, judging by the umbilical cord still wrapped around the creature’s throat.

Had this been the double event he’d predicted? A mother and child?

Newt appeared atop the thing, though Hermann barely recognized him. He’d traded his robes for something more practical. From what Hermann could tell at this distance, it looked like a leather jacket and a pair of black pants that seemed obscenely tight even this far away. He caught a glimpse of white as well, the shirt beneath the open jacket.

Gege returned his cane to him and Hermann made his way slowly in Newt’s direction, surrounded on all sides by the men who had been waiting outside the van.

“Newt!” he shouted up at him. His attention shifted to the left of the dead immature Kaiju and he took in machinery that was all too familiar. One of the older Drifting models. The machine was attached to something that Newt was driving into a missing portion of the Kaiju’s skull.

Newt climbed down and moved to his side, offering him a smile that looked more anxious than friendly. “We don’t have much time.”

“For what?”

He held up a helmet-like device that Hermann, frankly, did not trust. “We’re going Drifting!”

Hermann’s gaze shifted from him to the Kaiju and he gave an abrupt shake of his head. “Absolutely not!”

“Dude, you don’t have much of a choice. Not unless you want to become a Kaiju snack.”

“What did you tell them?” Hermann demanded.

“We don’t have time for this right now. The brain’s going to be dead in less than five minutes. Just put the goddamn thing on!” Newt snapped, shoving the device into his arms.

It was heavier than Hermann expected and he had to shift the bulk of his weight to his good leg to compensate for not being able to use his cane. His bad leg shook, but held for the moment. He wanted to protest, but with the crowd gathered around them, did he really have a choice?

He followed Newt’s motions and slid the helmet onto his head, buckling the chin strap. Newt held a ridiculous looking remote in his hand that contained only a large red button.

“Drift sequence initiating in five, four, three, two…”

Hermann didn’t have time to prepare for what happened next, not that he was convinced there was any adequate amount of preparation he could have undergone. Suddenly he was himself and someone else. Something else. Thoughts that belonged to him and others whirled through his mind too quickly for him to focus on in any great detail. He saw himself giving his first lecture, Newt receiving his first tattoo, and then a world he’d never witnessed before. Creatures he’d never seen before. Kaiju that made those who had already come through the Breach look like ants in comparison.

As quickly as it began, it ended and Hermann found himself shaking uncontrollably as something warm and wet seeped from his nose. Blood. It had to be blood.

He knew what the Marshal had been planning, how he intended to try and close the Breach. It wouldn’t work, not when the passage between this world and theirs read the Kaiju like a barcode at the supermarket, allowing only them to pass through it. It wasn’t going to work and to top it all off, the Kaiju would soon be coming en masse to extinguish the humans who remained.

There was so much they hadn’t known and now that Hermann had the answers, there was little he could do with them. What was important was that he tried regardless. If he was humanity’s last hope, whether or not it was some sick joke on the universe’s behalf, then he would do what it took to try and stop this.

Hermann fumbled with the straps to his helmet, fingers uncooperative in the aftermath of the Drift.

“Hermann? Are you all right?” Newt prompted.

“I’m fine,” he snapped. Even better when he saw the shocked look on Mei’s face. She didn’t seem to think what he’d done was possible. It was satisfying to see her rattled for once. Not that he got to enjoy it for long. Hermann stumbled, nearly falling in an effort to break away from the pack. He only made it a few meters before he was violently ill. A handkerchief was pressed into his hand and he dabbed at his mouth and nose as a helicopter descended from the sky, not seeming to care it was about to land on the people gathered beneath it.

Hermann recognized it, knew it to be one of the Marshal’s. If he could just make it there in time, perhaps he could get word out, perhaps he could prevent the apocalypse.

The cult members behind him nearly trampled one another in their efforts to clear space for the helicopter, lest they be crushed under its weight. Hermann surged in the opposite direction as it touched down.

“Here! I’m here!” he shouted as the doors were pulled open. He didn’t recognize the man inside, but he recognized his uniform.

His leg felt as if it were on fire, but he pushed past the burn, moving as fast as he was able. Meters, it was mere meters away. And then he was jerked back, once more by his hood. The coat wasn’t fastened, so only his arms were wrenched by the tug, but he hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind from him regardless. The tattoo on his back burned as his weight pressed it against the ground. Tears of pain skated down Hermann’s cheeks.

Gege stood over him, frowning as he yanked the cane from his hand. Mei hovered at his side, eyes wide. There was something about the way she looked at him that scared Hermann more than the chair and its restraints had. He wasn’t her sacrifice anymore. There was something like reverence in her eyes.

“It is time to go home, Xiānzhī,” she said as Gege knelt to lift him.

Someone’s hand wrapped tightly around Hermann’s arm, dragging him out of the other man’s reach. Hermann was hauled unsteadily to his feet, nearly sending himself and Newt back onto the ground as he took hold of the other man’s shoulders, trying to stay upright.

There wasn’t time for words. Newt wrapped his arm around him and took off at a run for the helicopter, leaving Hermann to put what weight he could on him. Everything hurt, his back, his leg, his lungs, but Newt wouldn’t let him stop and wouldn’t slow down.

Mei cried out behind them, the sound sending ice down Hermann’s spine. He didn’t chance a glance over his shoulder, but he could hear her pursuing them. They reached the helicopter and multiple hands grappled to pull him inside.

“Newt!” Hermann protested, realizing the other man’s arm was gone from where it had been wrapped just beneath his arms. He twisted in the soldiers’ hold, trying to grab him. His fingers dug into the back of Newt’s ridiculous leather jacket and Newt turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed and expression lost.

“Come with us!”

Newt hesitated, glancing back in Mei and Gege’s direction. The only thing that kept the two at bay now was the guns trained on them by the other men in the helicopter.

“Come with us!” Hermann repeated, grip tightening. “We don’t have any time! We have to warn them!”

Newt hesitated, but he gripped Hermann’s arm, using it for leverage as he climbed up into the helicopter.

Hermann knew it wasn’t an easy decision for him. The BuenaKai and the Kaiju were all he had known for the past six years. Hermann didn’t know what made him choose to climb into the helicopter, but he was grateful he had. If not for Newt, they never would have been able to save the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this, especially the anon that requested it! Any errors as far as the Cantonese and Chinese language(s) used are mine. I am not a native speaker and was forced to rely on the internet for the translations. Please feel free to provide corrections if necessary.
> 
> If you're a tumblr addict (like me), you can find me at [therudesea.tumblr.com](http://www.therudesea.tumblr.com).


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